Novacane
by cryme-anocean
Summary: They weren't ever really friends. He never imagined them as friends. But when it came down to it, Kurt would think back to his first and only friend during the rough times. Kurt Hummel is finally sixteen years old and it's time to be marked. Blaine Anderson has had his mark for two years, and he's still crazy. Kurt's vowed to never become like him.
1. Kurt

**Novacane**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

He was young, almost too young to remember. They weren't really friends at that time. They were forced together because of their fathers. They never… disliked each other, per se, but he never _liked_ him either. He taught him how to play the piano, and at the time he hated the piano. It was boring and he never found the use for it. It was hard, too. So he gave up. He decided he wanted to learn the guitar when he saw him playing on the front porch. He insisted he be taught. So they sat down again at an attempt to teach him an instrument. When his fingers started to hurt, and it didn't take long for that to happen, he gave up and decided to go back to piano. He would never forget who taught him piano. He would never forget his first and only friend. Sometimes, when it was really bad, he would think about him. He would think about how they played together. Then he would remind himself that he couldn't feel weak. He wasn't allowed to.

The ice stung. Like, worse than usual, stung. He felt tears well in his eyes, and not because he was upset, but because it hurt so badly. His eyes now stung with ice and the need to cry. He refused, though, and groped his way along the now empty hallway to the bathroom. He wondered, sometimes, what it would be like to have friends at a time like this; someone to lead him along the hallway and help him clean up in the girls' bathroom. The lump in his throat grew, making it feel more restricted, and his eyes began to hurt worse. He shoved the thoughts away, the thoughts of girlfriends whose houses he could spend the night at, or who he could talk about boys with, or who he could share all his secrets with. He didn't let them get to him. _Never let them get to you_. His mother had told him that.

He learned the difference between the Braille for boys' bathroom and girls' bathroom pretty quick. He let his fingers dance along the bumps, sighing in relief that he found the girls' bathroom quick today. He pushed in and was even more thankful when he didn't hear the squeals of girls. He felt along the door and quickly flipped the lock so no one could come in. He felt along for the sink and, when he found it, quickly turned the water on. He didn't wait for warm water, just shoved his head under the run and quickly rinsed the sticky liquid out of his hair. He didn't care about his eyes much, just that his hair would be ruined if he let it sit in the drink for long. Once, the red had stained his hair and he had to walk around the rest of the day with pink hair because he had worried about his face first. He had learned his lesson. When he figured it was mostly out, he washed it from his eyes. He slowly blinked, trying to regain the ability to see. It didn't take long for his eyes to adjust. He then made sure his hair was fine before he tore his shirt off. Not literally, of course. He dug around in his bag for the spare shirt he carried around. He slipped it on, placing his slushied shirt on the counter next to him. He slipped it on, the soft fabric caressing over his hardened nipples. He gulped down a breath before he began rinsing the slushy out from his shirt.

He was such a pro at this. It was a little… upsetting, honestly. He had done it so many times, all on his own, that he was now desperate for someone, even Rachel fucking Berry—everyone hates Rachel—to be here just to give him strength. He'd never really noticed this, before. He never paid attention to this part of him. It was still too early for him to be assigned to a part. It was too early for him to find a mate. It was too early, he knew, but he felt almost like when it was time it would be too late. He was feeling anxious with need. He was in desperate need for a calming presence in his life. He glanced around the bathroom before focusing back on the shirt with a sigh. There would be a stain, there would always be a stain, but he knew this was all he could do. He didn't have any other choices. He shoved the shirt under the hand dryer and waited until it was dry enough to push into his backpack without it soaking any of his other papers.

He pushed it to the bottom of the bag where his father was sure not to find it and finally left the bathroom. He made his way down the hallway to his locker. He opened it with no actual purpose and put his bag away. It was still only the beginning of the day. It left too much time for the jocks to hit him with a slushy again. He didn't want that. This was the first time he had ever wanted to skip school.


	2. Blaine

**Novacane**

**Chapter 2**

**A/N: I'm hoping to start updating every Monday. This story will be on a regular schedule soon, I promise.**

He watched him grow up. From afar, of course—they were two thousand miles apart, _duh_—but he did watch him grow up. He still remembered how he looked at ten. He was chubby. He was just a kid with a lot of baby fat. He looked a lot younger than he really was for a long time because of it. Their fathers were still close, which was surprising, so Burt sent pictures every year. _Multiple_ pictures. Kurt looked like he was about seven until puberty hit—which was last year. He then suddenly shot up over summer, lost all his baby fat, and became an incredibly… beautiful _man_. He was no longer the boy that he dreaded mating with; he was a man who he wanted to bang.

It was pretty common knowledge that he slept around. Like, a lot. People didn't seem to care, and there was no way of Kurt knowing he was his mate, so he didn't care either. Each week, he probably hooked up with at least four different guys. It wasn't a big deal, he told himself. He told everyone else that, too. It really wasn't a big deal. He was safe—his father made sure he was checked every weekend for STDs—and he was enjoying himself. That's all that really matters.

* * *

Being one of the most eligible bachelors had its perks, he thought with a shit-eating grin. He looked around the beach in interest. Women were adjusting their bathing suits just to show more cleavage and men were pulling off their shirts or pulling down their trunks to show off a bit of ass. He had always been an ass man. He smiled apologetically to the ladies as he approached one man who caught his attention. He was lying on a towel, trunks so low he was sure he could catch a glimpse at his dick. He watched him with interest, his eyes following his every move as he approached. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Blaine Anderson gracing me with his presence. I'm honored." He said it in such a flirtatious mockery that he knew he had to bang this guy.

"Then you should be even more honored to know that I'm here to invite you to my bed." His eyebrows raised in interest. He sat up—he paid extra close attention to the skin exposed by his low riding trunks.

"I am. You want me right now?"

**And He Scores Again**

**Blaine Anderson was seen picking up another hot young man this weekend. His new hookup spot? Santa Monica Beach. Now usually, we wouldn't waste our time reporting Anderson hooking up with **_**another**_** man. His latest hookup turned out to be the last plot twist Anderson—and the rest of us—could have been expect. The Crawford clan's, the Anderson's rival, very own heir was the Anderson's youngest heir's latest victim… and he's speaking out. "He [Blaine] didn't even wear a condom. So this morning, my father took me to get tested. Turns out, he gave HIV." The whole nation is shocked by this news. We can only hope that the youngest Anderson hasn't started a war.**

−**Tina Cohen-Chang**


	3. Chapter 3

_**IMPORTANT! READ NOW!**_

_**Hey! I'm sure you just noticed that I uploaded Chapter 3 again. I wasn't happy with the way I rushed everything in the previous draft. This is the edited version. You'll get a better look at Kurt and Blaine's friendship. It also explains situations better. So please don't skip over this, reread it. In the beginning there aren't any changes, but once you get down to where Blaine is introduced there is a lot more. The reaction to this fic is the best I've ever gotten I think. Just to let you guys know, I do write a lot quicker when I get reviews. They show me that people are actually reading my story and enjoying it so please just take a little bit of your time to review. Also, this story will update EVERY OTHER MONDAY! I know it's not Monday today but that's because I edited this. Which reminds me, I need a beta. So if you're interested please PM me and we can talk. **_

* * *

_**BDA**_

Oh my god. What the hell was this? He stared at the three letters on his wrist in absolute horror. _This is not a name! _He wanted to cry. He felt the tears burning his eyes and emotions boil in his chest, emotions he was all too familiar with. He was so used to the disappointment, the humiliation, the feeling that he's not good enough. He wanted to cry and scream and throw a fit because this just _is not fair_. He was so excited to know the name of the person who would be there for him for the rest of his life. He didn't know the name. How was he supposed to know if he'd found his mate? This wasn't fair.

"Hey Kurt! Today's the big day, huh?" Burt came bounding into his room. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and just shrugged. Burt took in a deep breath and came to sit down next to him. "Bud… you've been looking forward to today for _years_. Why are you suddenly so… not excited?" He wanted to correct his father. That wasn't how you phrase that sentence. He didn't though. No, he _couldn't_. He couldn't even make noises from his mouth. "Kurt?"

Instead of answering, he shoved his wrist out to show his father the three little letters on the inside of his left wrist. Burt slowly took his arm into his hands and pulled it up to his eyes so he could see better. "Oh Kurt…" Burt sighed and pulled him to his lap. He wanted to cry. It would be easiest to cry in his father's arms. He couldn't, though. He couldn't be weak. His mother told him to never be weak. _When things hurt the most, that's when you need to be the strongest._

* * *

_A Few Weeks Later_

He had just pulled onto the street his father's garage was on when he noticed something was off. It was just a subtle feeling deep in his chest that there was something wrong. He knew, though, that something was wrong when there was an unfamiliar motorcycle parked in _his_ spot. Unless someone had just recently moved into the neighborhood, no one should be parked there. He pulled in right beside the motorcycle and got out. He glared at the offending automobile until his father called to him. "Kurt! What are you doing? Come on." He huffed and wrapped his arms around his middle, having to physically hold himself together after an unusually hard day. He was glad, though, because it was the last day of school, which meant he was free for another three months. He found his father sitting in the break room with an unfamiliar—actually wait a second—man sitting across from him.

He swallowed thickly as he quickly recognized the dark, curly hair, the olive skin, the warm, honey/hazel eyes, the easy smile, the leather jacket, the air of confidence. "Dad… what, um… what's…" He didn't know what to address Blaine by, "Blaine doing here?" Okay, good. It was simple and easy. He just hoped Blaine wouldn't call him out on being disrespectful as he had few times before.

"I'm applying for a job here over the summer." Blaine explained that easy smile still in place as it always was. He wanted to ask why he was _here_ in Ohio but he remembered the article he'd read a few weeks ago.

**Blaine Anderson Announces His Sudden College Decision**

**It turns out Blaine isn't as much of a lost cause as we all thought. He's headed off to Ohio State University to get a degree in… well, no one actually knows. All we're sure of, though, is that Blaine won't be mooching off of his parents until he takes over the pack. It's an interesting turn of events, honestly. We can't wait to see how it turns out.**

"Um…" He looked to his father. He expected him to say something about not bothering him because he was his son or something. Burt always did that, and he knew that Burt knew what Blaine got up to. Burt was the one who opened his magazines in the first place. It was actually unnerving that his father wasn't threatening him. _Or maybe he already has_. He let out a sigh of relief at that thought. "Why in Lima? Why not closer to…" He trailed of in realization. Blaine had already gone through all the gay guys in Columbus so he was here to… Okay no that's stupid. He sighed and sat down in the seat closest to him. This is where Blaine had lived for about two years before he and his family had been called off to California. Which reminded him, he wanted the full story. He would wait for later to ask for the full story, though. "Why Lima?" He tried again.

Blaine didn't hesitate and he didn't take a while to think about it. He was ready with an answer right away. "My mate is here." Okay this was good. Blaine Anderson's mate is in Lima? So, it's either a woman—HAH!—or it's a homophobic man. He scoffed a little. He didn't mean to. He really tried to hold it back but it was just too good to be true.

In fact, "I thought you weren't concerned with your mate. Didn't you tell that to…" He tried to think of what magazine it had been, "US weekly?" Blaine looked at him in interest. He smiled in spite of himself. "What?"

"I would say that I feel like you stalk me, but I'm not sure how much teasing you can take today." His face fell and he looked down at where his hands were fisted in his shirt. It was true. He wasn't able to take much teasing, whether it was from his first friend or not. He just felt bad today. It was actually really odd that Blaine could tell, but it also made him realize what he'd been missing out on with friends.

"Thank you."

"That's hardly worthy of thanks."

He glanced at his father. He wanted to say something like _"It is because you're the first person to ever notice _anything_ about me."_ But he knew that he couldn't because his dad would know it was worse than he was saying. "Okay." His toes curled in his boots as he looked away. He hated to admit it, but he had missed Blaine. Honestly, he couldn't even tell you anything about how Blaine had been before he moved. It was just too hard to remember any specific thing. He remembered bits of their conversations and such, but never personality traits. He just missed the _idea_ of Blaine. Blaine was his first friend. He was the only friend he'd ever had. He knew that he just made Blaine out to be this great guy in his head when it probably wasn't even the truth. He didn't care, though, because thinking about Fake Blaine made even the toughest days better. He kinda wished Real Blaine would be that for him. "I'm gonna… get ready." He announced and stood up, approaching his locker and pulling out his coveralls and a dirty white t-shirt.

He wasn't really all that uncomfortable getting undressed around Blaine because, again, with Fake Blaine he'd gotten undressed in front of him. "Kurt!" His father admonished. He looked up at him in surprise. He wasn't expecting that.

"What?"

"You shouldn't get undressed in front of someone you don't know."

"Dad… it's _Blaine_. Blaine's seen so many naked penises that I'm sure my _underwear_ will not faze him." He scoffed and yanked his shirt off before nicely folding it and setting it in the locker.

He heard a sharp inhale of breath and assumed it was his father because he was scandalized that his son would ever say something like that about an old family friend. "Damn Hummel that actually hurt me." Oh. It was just Blaine. He smiled to himself. For the first time, his last name wasn't being used in a condescending way.

He turned around and smiled at Blaine teasingly—it was almost too easy to fall into… not a friendship but… they got along so well. It was too easy. "I would say I'm sorry, but… you kinda deserve it." He then frowned as he remembered Eli. Oh god. Blaine was totally pissed off now, wasn't he?

Blaine's foot came out and bumped against his shin. It didn't hurt and there was no force behind it but he jumped. No one ever initiated contact with him unless to hurt him. His body was tense and adrenaline was rushing through his veins already. He forced himself to calm down and chanced a glance at his father who was looking at him in worry. "Don't look so panicked. I'm not upset." Blaine's voice cut through Burt's look. He looked back to Blaine and smiled. He huffed a laugh and pulled on the white shirt. He then reached for the button of his deep blue skinny jeans.

"Don't look, Blaine, I would hate to make you uncomfortable." He smiled to himself at the sound of Blaine's laughter.

**A Moment of Burt**

_If only he knew._ I smiled in spite of myself, though, because Kurt looked happier than he ever has.

"So Blaine, you ready to start?" He heard his father ask as he shoved his pants down.

"Definitely."

"Good. Kurt, I want you to show Blaine the ropes today. Tomorrow too, probably, so get up early." He wanted to whine, but he knew that his father would have some smart remark to make. He didn't even waste his breath anymore. He groaned, though. Blaine didn't make any noise, though. He was so mature, wasn't he? He was… older now. He probably thought that he was such a child. He frowned at that thought. He was more mature than most kids his age. Well, fuck what you think, Blaine Anderson.

He straightened up, fixing his hair because there was _no way_ he could go out with anything less than perfect hair, and turned around to look at Blaine. "Are you ready?" He asked as he approached Blaine. Blaine looked at him for a long time and he felt awfully uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"I guess I am." He finally said, standing up from the seat and making a move to follow him to the main part of the garage. He sighed one last time—this was not how he wanted to spend his summer break.

* * *

"Morning Kurt!" He turned around to see Blaine walking in almost an hour early smiling at him. He blinked in confusion. Blaine just went right to the desk and began on whatever paperwork his father had assigned. He turned back to the car he had been working on with a long intake of breath. It was new: being greeted by someone who wasn't out to torture him. He ran a hand through his hair and sniffed.

At lunch time, Blaine tapped his arm. "Hey, you wanna get out of here?"

"What was that, Anderson?" Blaine turned around to look at Burt. He smiled politely.

"I was asking Kurt if he wanted to go out to lunch with me." He explained.

He looked up in surprise. His lips twitched as he thought of that. "What?"

Blaine sighed and turned back to him, "You wanna go get something to eat? We can pick up something for your dad, too." He checked with his father to make sure it was okay. Burt sighed long and exaggerated. Both he and Blaine turned back around to look at him. Blaine made some sort of facial expression that can only be described as "the puppy dog look".

"Be careful." Blaine whooped and grabbed his hand. He was about to drag him out of the garage when he heard his dad yell, "You better be back by the time break is over!" He may not agree with Blaine's choices but he was certainly excited about their new friendship.

* * *

"What do you want?" He looked up at the menu and hummed in thought. They were at McDonalds right now and, normally, he would complain about it being so fattening, but lately he had really been craving a cheeseburger.

"Just a number one." He finally decided on something simple. Blaine glanced over at him but shrugged. "Do you need money?" He asked.

"No. I'm the one who invited you out so I should probably, you know, pay for you." He nodded. That made sense, really. He guessed he just didn't know much about this whole… going out with friends thing. Obviously.

While Blaine ordered, he had him go find them a seat. He did so, walking away to find a booth preferably where they could sit and get to know each other. He looked up just in time to see Blaine approaching him with a tray of their food, two cups stacked together in his free hand. "What do you want to drink? I'll go get it for you."

"Sweetened Iced Tea? It's my favorite." Blaine nodded and set the tray down.

"You can start without me." Blaine assured when he saw the way he eyed the burger. He shook his head no, though, and Blaine just shrugged before walking off to get them their drinks.

"My dad and your dad are still really close." Blaine started when he sat down. He looked up at him in confusion. He didn't know what that had to do with anything. "He says that you… don't have any friends." He felt his face flush. He couldn't believe his father would tell someone something like that.

"Okay…?"

"He's told my father about the bullying. How the jocks at your school push you around so bad you have bruises everywhere. How they call you names. How they toss slushies on you. How they've assaulted you." He swallowed thickly. This was the most humiliated he'd ever felt. Blaine Anderson, Hollywood's most sought after bachelor, knows his deepest, most embarrassing secrets. That sucks.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked before picking up the burger in front of him and taking a bite.

"I want you to know that I know. I want to be your friend, Kurt. I want you to know that I know this out of respect for you." _That's funny. I didn't think you respected anyone._

* * *

He didn't want to see Blaine the next day. He was embarrassed. He hadn't wanted anyone to know that, not even his Soulmate. He didn't want BDA to know; why on earth would he want Blaine Anderson, well known asshole, to know? He wouldn't. But he got up and he went in.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what, kid?"

"That you told Mr. Anderson all about my school experience. He told Blaine. Blaine knows, Dad."

"I didn't realize it was a secret."

He wanted to cry. He brought his hands up and scrubbed at his eyes to keep the tears at bay. He was so frustrated right now. "I didn't want anyone to know, Dad. I didn't want anyone to know something so humiliating."

His father looked at him for a long time. He just looked. He felt the tears burn his eyes but he refused to let himself cry. It was stupid to cry when you're frustrated, he told himself. His dad then approached him and wrapped his arms around him. He pressed his face into his shoulder, "I'm sorry, Kurt." He apologized.

"Am I interrupting something?"

He sighed and drew away from his father, turning to face away from Blaine. He didn't want him to see his red eyes and assume he had been crying. Tears never fell, he hadn't been crying. "No, you're good. I'm gonna need you back in my office today, Blaine. I have some important paperwork I want to teach you how to fill out."

Blaine nodded and left with his father, but not before greeting him. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders as if some sort of hug and said quietly, "Morning, Kurt." He then left. He didn't see him until lunch time.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?" He turned around to see Blaine smiling at him. He shrugged and motioned with his head to the seat beside him.

"So, what's a guy like you do for fun?"

He took offense to that, "What, you mean the stereotypical gay?"

"Whoa, whoa, easy tiger, I didn't mean to offend you. I meant, what's a guy with no friends do for fun." Blaine then paused before groaning.

He smirked, "That's really not that much better than your first question, asshole."

Blaine grinned and pulled out a sandwich. "Wow I have been called a lot of things but-"

"Asshole is definitely one of them." He interrupted with an easy smile.

"Sure, but I was gonna say, none of them have ever hurt as bad."

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm not. Damn, you're awfully defensive today."

He snorted, "Shut up, idiot."

Blaine faked a dramatic gasp and his hands flew to cover his heart, "_Oh my gosh!_ That hurt worse than being called an asshole."

"Now you're just making fun of me."

"You make it too easy, Hummel."

He wasn't sure if that was an insult, but he decided to let it go. "I'm sorry then, for being an easy target."

Blaine paused and looked over his face. He was scanning to make sure he was okay, he noticed. He smiled, assuring him he was fine. "You should be sorry. I like the chase."

He quirked an eyebrow, "No kidding, going after Eli fucking Crawford, huh." Blaine laughed and rolled his eyes. They didn't talk much after that.

* * *

This became a thing. Blaine would eat lunch with him every day. He would take him out to eat or he'd pack his own lunch and sit with him. They would talk for what seemed like forever. Sometimes it would be about nothing of much substance like music, sometimes they would talk about what Blaine was going to college for, sometimes they would talk about why Blaine was taking over the pack and not his older brother, sometimes they would talk about the decisions Blaine had made, sometimes about the bullying or the lack of friends he had. It was great, though. He felt like he finally had a friend. Sometimes, if Blaine was feeling playful, he'd bring up celebrities that he knew and would tell him all their dirty little secrets. They were becoming fast friends.

A few days later, Blaine showed a little later than he should have. It was only a couple minutes late so he wasn't going to write him up. He was facing the tool box, grabbing a wrench when he heard Blaine let out a noise. It was hard to describe. It sounded like a moan and a yelp of surprise at the same time. He whipped around to see Blaine staring at him. His eyes widened. "Are you okay?" He asked in concern.

Blaine's tongue darted out and swiped over his lips. "Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are?" He froze. What the hell?

"Um… no?"

"They should. You should be told how gorgeous you are every day."

He bit his lip and turned away, heat rushing to his face. He couldn't believe this was happening. Oh god, Blaine Anderson, notorious playboy, just called him sexy. _And_ gorgeous! He wished he had someone to gush over this with. _No one but Blaine_, he thought to himself. "Thank you." He finally managed.

Lunch was full of this, too. Blaine went on and on about what a nice body he had. The compliments thrummed through him like adrenaline.

This went on for another week before it finally escalated. It didn't escalate in a good way either.

Bent over the hood of a car—one of those Honda Civics everyone is raving about—he fished around to try and find the wire he needed.

"Morning, sexy."

He stood up straight and turned around, "Hi, Blaine." Blaine smirked and made his way over. Oh lord. That smirk.

"So, I have a proposition for you."

He raised an eyebrow at that, a small smile playing on his lips, "What's that?"

"You're a virgin, aren't you?"

He didn't like where this was heading, "I am…" He trailed off, waiting for Blaine to fill in the rest.

"Don't you wanna lose that before the end of high school? You're about to start you're senior year and you're still a virgin." Blaine, please, don't. "Let me do it. I'm experienced and we're friends. Friends help other friends out like this. I know how to take care of you. Isn't that better than you losing it to your first love or something like that?"

He closed his eyes.

"No."

Blaine shrugged. He didn't seem fazed. "You'll come around. They always do."

"Right, and how much trouble has that gotten you into? Seriously, you should just wait for you mate." He was so disgusted by the fact that Blaine would want to have sex before the one he was destined to. He couldn't even imagine it. He smiled dreamily as he thought of what his perfect first time would be like. _Magical, it would be magical_. He imagined him and his mate making love under the full moon in a field of lilacs, both totally in love and whispering their vows of forever to each other.

"Now what's the fun in that? I like sex, and you would too if you just let me show you."

He scoffed. "No. I'm waiting. My first time will be beautiful. My mate and I will lose our virginity to each other in a field under the moonlight. It'll be perfect. I feel sorry for your mate." He really did. He couldn't imagine the disappointment he must feel every time Blaine has sex with someone who isn't him.

Blaine seemed to have thought of something important because he's looking at him like he just had some sort of revelation. "You're of age, aren't you? You should know… who your mate is, right?"

He frowned at the reminder of the three ominous letters on his left wrist. "It's none of your business."

"I just wanted to know if you know."

"Of course I know."

"Okay…" He looked up. Blaine was looking at him expectantly. He just made a face and turned back to his work. "Kurt… you know who your mate is." It wasn't a question this time.

"Yes, jeez Blaine, I know who it is! What the hell is your problem?" He demanded, spinning back around to glare at him.

"Can I see the mark?" He finally asked after staring at him for a long while.

"Uh, no, obviously not. Only mates are allowed to see." Blaine made a face as if to say _uh, duh!_

"I know. Let me see yours."

"No, Blaine, leave it."

"Kurt, seriously, I'll show you mine first if it makes you uncomfortable just show it to me."

"Oh my god, no, that would be like an exchange!"

"I know! Jesus Kurt what the hell is your issue?"

"I don't know who it is, okay!? Is that what you wanted, for me to admit that nature fucked up and didn't give me a name?"

Blaine was silent after that. He didn't respond. They worked in silence for the rest of the day. Blaine didn't even come to him when he had a question, he went to Burt. They were officially not talking. It actually made him sad. He realized how used he'd gotten to Blaine always being there for him to talk to. How easy their strange little friendship was. This wasn't a fight, obviously. He could just practically taste the awkward tension. He didn't actually think Blaine knew. He was sure he just curious or something. He actually felt bad, too. He hadn't wanted to yell at Blaine. It wasn't his intention. He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth to speak, but he quickly thought better of it.

He looked down at his hands as he tugged at the leather that covered his left wrist. He hated looking at the letters nowadays. He didn't look at them ever, actually. He had settled for never taking the cuff off. He frowned and let out a sharp breath through his nose when Blaine entered the shop. It had been almost a week since he and Blaine had last spoken. Blaine had apologized very briefly and he had accepted the apology but neither he nor Blaine had made any moves to speak. It was awkward at the shop. Blaine refused to even ask him questions. He wouldn't look at him unless necessary—it wasn't very often. He was... _lonely_. He had gotten used to have a… whatever Blaine was to him. He was lonely. He missed having someone to talk to.

He swallowed thickly as he stared down at his wrist again. He twirled the leather around his wrist, the buckle scraping against the letters on the inside of his wrist.

"Okay, I can't take this." He looked up, eyes wide. He didn't dare let himself hope that he was meaning that he couldn't take them not talking. _I can't take us not talking_. He pushed the thought away though because if Kurt Hummel was anything, he was strong.

"You can't take what?"

"I need to know what you mean by not having a name. If you don't have a name, what _do_ you have?" He felt his eyes sting. His fucking heart stung. He didn't let himself hope, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. Blaine was only interested in how much of a freak he was. _I am a freak, aren't I? I'll become a walking science experiment. _

"I don't have a name." He responded quietly. He wanted to make himself as small as possible in that moment. "I just have… letters. Three of them, so I'd imagine they're initials. But it's not a name." He felt the tears sting again. He couldn't keep pushing them down. The lump in his throat was constricting painfully. _I don't know why, Blaine. I don't know why it's not a name. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be a freak. I'm sorry_.

Blaine was approaching him at a lightning fast speed. Before he knew it, Blaine's hand was on his left wrist, tugging at the leather. He tore his arm away the second he realized it, but Blaine had already undone the buckle. His wrist felt naked. He instantly covered it up with his hand. His whole body trembled in shame. He was ashamed of his stupid three letters. He couldn't look down, he couldn't look up, he just kept his eyes squeezed shut tight.

But then there was warmth on his hand. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't even open them when the heat started pulling at his own hand to try and remove it from his wrist. "Kurt. Please let me see. Or, better yet, look at my mark."

He shook his head. He didn't want to see Blaine's mark. He didn't want someone trying to rub their mark in his face. Their perfectly good mark. His mark was so fucked up. He wanted to cry. He did cry, but just a little. He could feel the wetness around his eyes.

"My full name—Kurt listen to me very closely here—is Blaine Devon Anderson. My initials are BDA." He felt everything slow down to a complete stop. The world stopped spinning in that moment. And then he was yanked back to the real world with Blaine tearing his own hand from his wrist and replacing it with his own.

The world did stop then. He could feel Blaine inside of his _soul_. He couldn't breathe. His lungs, diaphragm, mouth, brain, and heart stopped working. He was at a complete stand still. He was slowly brought back to life, though, by Blaine removing his hand. "…rt? …urt? Kurt?" He pulled himself to other side of the garage practically. Blaine was walking towards him. He pressed back further. He needed space. He needed to be alone. He needed to _disappear_. Blaine backed him up against a wall. He swallowed thickly and blinked profusely. He didn't know what to do.

"Blaine please…" He didn't know what he was begging for. Space, maybe? Or for none of it to be real? Or for Blaine to go away? Or maybe it was for Blaine to touch him. His body was thrumming with the idea of Blaine touching him intimately.

… And then he was brought back to reality. The reality where Blaine was, in fact, his Soulmate. The reality where Blaine had plenty of notches on his belt. The reality where _he_ could become another notch on his belt. Oh god, that reality scared him the most. He couldn't do that to himself.

"Kurt?" He looked up into Blaine's face which was actually right where he had been standing. He had backed up and imagined Blaine following him. He was crazy. "Are you okay?" He must not have been out of it for very long because Blaine was looking at him like that was maybe the second time he'd asked.

He was trembling. He was trembling with the knowledge that Blaine was… right there, in front of him almost, with his cuff in his hand. It was the most terrifying and vulnerable he'd been in a long time. "Show me your mark."

"You don't believe me. Even after all that, you don't believe-"

"Of course I don't! If you've known it was me why did you… why did you never come back? Why did you continue to have sex? No, why did you even start having sex in the first place? You wouldn't have even had to look for your Soulmate if I really am it." He was fuming. He didn't even want to go into how _unfair_ this all really was. He was beyond pissed. He was fuming.

"It wasn't that simple, Kurt. You were fifteen when I got my mark. You were a freshman. There's no way you would've been able to deal with me on top of everything. Plus… I wouldn't have been able to move out to be with you. It would have been long distance. I know you wouldn't have wanted that."

He scoffed. "Number one, all I'm hearing is excuses. Number two that only explains why you didn't tell me. Why'd you start having sex? I know you started before you even got marked. God, I was looking forward to losing my virginity with someone just as inexperienced as me. But _no_! Kurt Hummel always gets the short end of shit stick! Of course I'm stuck with some asshole! That's just my fucking life isn't it!?" He laughed humorlessly. He wanted to kill himself. He was seriously considering taking a knife to his skin and just bleeding out. He couldn't remember when the last good thing happened to him. Where the hell was his dad?

"Kurt, shut the hell up. Like you're what I wanted. I wanted someone my age. I wanted someone I could plan a future with; you're still in high school. You're not what I wanted either. We were chosen for each other, though. According to the name on my wrist, you're the person perfect for me."

"I don't think you understand, Blaine. The thought of you as my Soulmate makes me want to kill myself. I want to kill myself. That's not a figure of speech either. You're disgusting. You gave Eli fucking Crawford HIV, you'll have sex with anything that has a penis, you're high half the time and the other half you're drunk and now all my dreams have been crushed, once again. So, thank you, Blaine, for making the fact that my mark is so fucked up even worse. I seriously despise you."

"Fuck you, Kurt Hummel."


End file.
